


Seven Impossible Things

by fluentisona



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:46:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluentisona/pseuds/fluentisona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Annual Hogwarts Staff End of Year Party of 1982 may well be the most interesting one yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Impossible Things

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Springtime-Gen 2010 on Livejournal, therefore Minerva's back-story from Pottermore is not taken into account.

July second was always an interesting day for the teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. While the last week of June was always spent cleaning the castle and making sure it was prepared for its role as the summer residence of the professors, July second was the Annual Hogwarts Staff End of Year Party, hosted ever year by Aberforth Dumbledore. This day was significant for four major reasons. First, it allowed for teachers to discuss classes, students, and Prefects for the following year. Second, it forged a sense of camaraderie between the staff, which was especially important during the years of Grindelwald and Voldemort. Third, it was the only time in which the teachers could go into Hogsmeade as a group without worrying about students eavesdropping. And finally, it was the only time Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore had a conversation that lasted more than three minutes.

The Annual Hogwarts Staff End of Year Party began in 1972, ten months after the appointment of Albus Dumbledore to the post of Headmaster. For twenty-seven years, it was a day of joy, laughter, and encouragement, even in the bleakest times of Voldemort's reign. However, the Annual Hogwarts Staff End of Year Party of 1989 was by far the most eventful one, and not solely for the unexpected guests who decided to show up. It was a day filled with impossibilities.

The day began much as days at Hogwarts always did. Minerva McGonagall stepped out of bed at precisely six fifteen, which caused her sleeping mate and lover, Poppy Pomfrey, to mutter discontentedly in her sleep before burrowing back into Minerva's discarded covers. As Minerva moved towards the window seat, where her morning tea was waiting, there was movement from the room besides theirs. Next door, Xiomara Hooch was sending the young woman she brought back the night before on her way via floo. The poor dear sneezed as the green flames licked her heels, and was most likely going to end up somewhere in China, considering her failed attempt at enunciating "Knockturn Alley." Minerva had never been very fond of Xiomara's after-dinner guests, but she was not one to judge people based on their sexual preferences, so she simply took a sip of her tea and watched as the sun danced along the tips of the horizon.

Down the hall, Pomona Sprout was tossing about in her own bed, the whispered name of her late husband lingering on her lips. Antony Sprout had died during the First War, where he and seven of his men had attempted a suicide mission against Grindelwald and failed. Three months later, Dumbledore vanquished the dark wizard to Nurmengard. Apparently, it really was all about timing. Pomona took up the Herbology post at Hogwarts that her husband had left vacant, and moved away from their small home in an attempt to rid herself of her ghosts. It turned out, the dead never really died again.

Pomona's tossing created a most irritating squeaking noise, which quickly caused an upset in Irma Pince's slow, steady snoring, and roused her in a most unappealing way. She jumped up quite suddenly, assuming that there was something wrong, and then fell back against her pillow haphazardly upon realizing that Pomona was only having another nightmare. She would have to talk Poppy into spiking the Hufflepuff's drinks with sleeping potion again, as this was the fifth time in the last week that Pomona had a nightmare, and it was becoming quite the nuisance. Although both she and Poppy were Slytherins, Irma was much friendlier with Minerva, who shared her intellectual pursuits and respect for the law.

Deciding that any chance at sleep was now gone, Irma pushed herself out of bed and pulled on her night robe. She had to write a letter to the London Magical Preservation Society before noon that day, if she wanted a shot at getting the much coveted Goblin Wars Grant, which would allow her a month's study with primary sources dealing with the original Goblin Wars of the 300s. Snape continuously told her it was ridiculous that she was so interested in the wars, but Irma chalked it up to a schoolboy grudge that began when she bested him in the History of Magic NEWT.

Three floors above Irma, there was a sound that could have been a cross between the slow chug of the Hogwarts' Express and the deep grumbling of a giant. It was, in fact, the steady, noisy sound of Sybil Trelawney snoring. She would not wake up for at least four more hours, at which time the rest of the female teachers at Hogwarts would have already left the castle. Minerva and Poppy would be in Greenhouse Six with Pomona, stocking up on Poppy's weekly medical supplies while Irma set off to Hogsmeade with Xiomara in order to mail her grant application at the Owlery. Xiomara always went to Hogsmeade on Sundays, as she and Miss Josephine Puddifoot always had breakfast on Sunday morning. Miss Puddifoot was Xiomara's Keeper when she used to captain the Ravenclaw team, and the owner of the teashop may or may not have been the only woman Xiomara had ever been in love with. There were many men who owned pieces of her heart, but only ever one woman.

And so, for the most part, the day began much as any normal day should. Except maybe for the dream Sybil was having, one which she would not remember upon opening her eyes. The dream began in a goat farm and ended in the middle of Kansas, a place she visited as a girl with her great aunt Cassandra. Although the dream was not necessarily a premonition of the day to come, it did include certain aspects of the next twenty-four hours. The first was that there were goats involved. The second was the occurrence of seven seemingly impossible things. The last was Minerva saying something quite cruel, which Trelawney would remember only a minute after it was said, and therefore be unable to counter effectively.

:::

The Annual Hogwarts Staff End of Year Party was scheduled for three o' clock in the afternoon at the Hog's Head Pub. However, most teachers entered the establishment at some point between noon and midnight, without any form of reprimand or refusal of entry. Aberforth usually had very little business on summer Sundays anyway, so whoever did show up without Hogwarts' identification was seated at the bar and basically ignored by everyone but the barkeep and his homosexual granddaughter. Yes, apparently being a flamboyant fag did run in his family, something Aberforth never fully accepted. At the very least, KJ's partner was not a maniacal dark wizard hell bent on world domination. Ace Crouch was simply the daughter of one.

Minerva was the first to walk in. Herbology could only hold her attention for so long, and by ten thirty she was already halfway down the road to Hogsmeade while Poppy and Pomona talked shop in the sweltering confines of Greenhouse Six. Minerva had always been Aberforth's favorite Hogwarts' teacher, even when she had been a student there. She was a fiery Scottish woman that reminded him almost painfully of his dead wife Siobhan, who was always so in love with life that she had not deserved to die. She was just another person Gellert had stolen from him, along with his sister, daughter, and brother. Flinching at the memory, Aberforth forced a smile as Minerva walked through the door, her robes flourishing behind her like the exclamation mark upon her entry. "Morning Min," he greeted, placing the glass he was cleaning down on the counter, "Where's your flower?"

"Poppy's up at the castle still," Minerva explained, sitting down in her usual seat two tables away from the counter. Aberforth made his way over to her with a glass of Firewhiskey and Lime in hand. Just like his Siobhan, Minerva liked her drinks, and her lovers, with a bite. "Apparently mandrakes and their healing powers continue to be more interesting than a quick romp in the hay, even after fifty years. Where're Kendra Jane and Acantha?" Although she had grown accustomed to calling Aberforth's granddaughter and granddaughter-in-law by their first names, any type of nickname fell dead on her lips. She never was fully able to overcome the teacher/student relationship that she had with most of Wizarding Britain. A part of her wondered what would happen if she and Poppy were to end. Surly there weren't enough lesbians over the age of sixty out there, and dating a younger woman was out of the question, because she'd never be able to get over the fact that she had taught them at some point.

"Ah, she's a habit of gettin' too engrossed in dose plants fer her own good," Aberforth said as he handed her the drink. "The girls are good. They're outside tendin' to the sheep right now. It's shearin' season, and Ace is jus' bitin' at the bit ta knit us all new robes. I think she's righ' crazy, figurin' as it's the middle of summer, but she and KJ jus' won't listen ta reason." Unbeknownst to him, Minerva was always enraptured by the lilt of Aberforth's voice, which was reminiscent of her fathers. She took a sip of her liquor before smiling at the older man, and letting her eyes wander to the door that led outside and to the goat farm the Dumbledores kept behind the Pub.

"I'm beginning to think logic and reason are no longer important to today's youth," Minerva agreed, thinking back on the events of the past school year. "Have you heard anything about Mr. Duke since the last Quidditch match?" Kirley Duke was one of Minerva's favorite students of the graduating class of 1989, which was slightly embarrassing, given the fact that he did not graduate. Instead of completing his education and then chasing after his goals, as both his sister and his mother had chosen to do, Kirley had quit school in early February to start a group with Donaghan Trelett called "The Weird Sisters." Had the boys been as gay as she was, Minerva would not have questioned the name. However, Kirley was engaged to be married in September and Donaghan had been found in the Astronomy Tower on at least fifteen separate occasions with at least thirteen separate girls.

The name hadn't been the most disappointing part. Kirley and Donaghan were both vital parts of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, prior to their untimely departure, and Minerva blamed Gryffindor's defeat at the hands of the Slytherins, for the fifth time in a row, on the absence of these two boys. Prior to their departure, the Gryffindor team had been unbeatable. Amelia Brand was a shoe-in for the Harpies come August, and Charlie Weasley would be given his choice of teams once he graduated in two years. Their Keeper, who was only a second year, proved to be quite superior in comparison with both Slytherin's Terrence Higgs and Hufflepuff's James Rowan. Plompton made up for his inability to hit straight with the sheer force with which his bat hit the bludger, and Moran was a definite top Chaser from the Emerald Isle. Even with all of this, the loss of Kirley and Donaghan resulted in a definite loss by the Gryffindor team, one which Snape refused to let her forget.

"He stopped in with the rest of the band las' week," Aberforth replied, taking a sip of his large mug of beer. "They all seem real happy, Minerva. Maybe it was for the best."

"It bloody well was not for the best," Minerva replied in a characteristic fit of passion that most of her students would find impossible to believe her capable of. "He lost me my Quidditch Cup."

"Aren't Heads of Houses supposed to be impartial?" Poppy's voice asked the question Aberforth was thinking, and he stood up to grab the new arrival a glass of Goblin Wine. Despite the bad reputation the students gave the Hog's Head, Aberforth was a stickler for his alcohol and insisted that he serve only the best. This was especially important on days like July second, when he was dealing with patrons with all different types of tastes. Aberforth liked to believe that the type of liquor a person preferred said a lot about the person's personality. For example, Minerva drank Firewhiskey and lime like it was some sort of ambrosia. This denoted she had a life of strife and hardship, and used the alcohol to burn away the memories and pain. On the other hand, Poppy Pomfrey was from a very well-to-do pureblooded family and had been sorted into Slytherin because of her ambition to prove herself in the world despite her name. Therefore, the quiet dignity associated with Goblin Wine suited her personality to a "T."

"Of course," Minerva replied, moving over slightly so that Poppy could share her seat. It was rare that the two women got to be affectionate in public, and even the mere act of sharing a chair made Minerva feel as if they were flaunting their relationship. "Just like school Mediwitches aren't supposed to condone illegal behavior. But we've all be known to make mistakes."

"I'm not sure I know what you're implying, Minerva." Poppy said, her tone suggesting both innocence and guilt. Luckily, Minerva was quite adept at playing the games of a Slytherin. After being attached to one for nearly fifty years and almost being sorted into the House herself, the Transfiguration teacher simply tugged at the heart-shaped locket Poppy had given her for their twenty-fifth anniversary and smiled at her lover. As Poppy took a deep sip of her wine, the door opened again, and Pomona walked in. She looked slightly winded, and gratefully grabbed the tall glass of water Aberforth handed to her as she made her way across the pub. Minerva and Poppy shared a look, which quickly informed the former that Poppy and Pomona had started the trek to Hogsmeade together, but somehow Pomona ended up entering the pub a good five minutes after the other woman did.

"It couldn't be the night you found Mr. Weasley and Miss Tonks engaging in extracurricular activities while in your care, could it?" Pomona gasped as she finished the glass of water. Aberforth quickly grabbed the glass and brought it back to the bar to refill it. When it came to handling beverages, he preferred to use his wand as little as possible. In all actuality, he always preferred to use his wand as little as possible. Despite the fact that he was a formidable wizard, Aberforth had never been too fond of magic ever since it had claimed the life of his baby sister and the heart of his older brother almost a hundred years ago.

"Oh that," Poppy said, her voice as flippant as the brushing off movement that she made with her left hand. "It wasn't as if they were doing something everyone here hadn't done at least a dozen times." She cut the number smaller for Aberforth's case, as he had dropped out after his fifth year and most likely hadn't experienced the joys of fumbling in the dark and looking for a little bit of oblivion in the Astronomy Tower or the Infirmary. Pomona remembered Antony, who had been a Slytherin three years below her and one year below Minerva. He was one of the few people she genuinely believed could have talked some sense in to Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr. Had he lived through Grindelwald's war, maybe the 1970s would have been a happy time of sex and rock, like they had been for the Muggles, instead of the darkest time in the history of the Wizarding World.

"That doesn't mean you should have thrown Mr. Weasley his wand and told them the spell for contraception," Poppy couldn't decide if the high note in Pomona's voice was one of exhaustion, excitement, or indignation. Whichever one it was, she couldn't bring herself to mind. "Minerva, how is it you ended up with her again?"

"Drugs," Minerva stated, her voice void of emotion. Poppy choked on her wine, the red liquid pouring from her lips in a single breath, with drops of it spraying Minerva, Pomona, and the clear liquids both were holding. Both Pomona and Minerva looked at the Mediwitch for a moment, before dissolving into their own fit of giggles. Just as they were about to regain composure, the back door opened. All three women looked up, expecting to see Kendra or Acantha walk in. Instead, there was Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape, both covered in mud and holding newly sheered goats.

"Is this your new Quidditch strategy, Severus?" Minerva asked, looking at the Quidditch gloves he was wearing. "Are you going to make your Seeker catch the goat? It may increase his speed considerably."

"Of course not, Minerva," Severus replied, his voice still confident despite the unwieldy goat in his arms, "I was planning on giving it to you as a replacement for Mr. Duke. Or do you think the goat is overqualified?" Minerva felt the urge to hex him crash over her like a wave, but she quickly forced back the impulse to turn him into a rat and instead pulled a seat over from a different table in order for him to sit down.

"Why're you carrying my goats, Albus?" Aberforth asked, not bothering to get his brother or his brother's favorite minion a drink. "We're shearing them today, not slaughtering them." Although the comment may have seemed a bit too defensive, Albus took it in stride and continued to carry the goat towards the stairs.

"Your granddaughter's friend thought it best to bring these two inside, Mr. Dumbledore," Snape explained as he too drew closer to the stairwell, "as they're both heavily pregnant and it's very late in the season for them to be giving birth." Pomona jumped to her feet before Snape ended the sentence, and together with Aberforth, they made their way upstairs to make the mother goats comfortable. Poppy and Minerva remained in the Pub, their knees touching as they further discussed the compromising position Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks had been found in three days before the finals, and the ensuing war that came with telling Andromeda Black that her daughter was engaging in illicit activities without being married.

:::

By the time the quartett had returned to the bottom floor, Sybil and Xiomara were sitting with Minerva and Poppy at the staff table, Sybil's goat milk and Xiomara's Abraxian Whiskey both half empty, while the four women discussed the fact that Bill Weasley had scored an "O" on his Divination NEWT.

"Sybil, are you certain?" Poppy asked for what must have been the thirteenth time. "The boy hated anything as illogical as tealeaves and numerology."

"It isn't illogical," the youngest of the women present declared, pushing her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. "There's plenty of logic involved in deciphering the whims of the Fates."

"Of course there is, dearie," Pomona assured her, taking a drink of her water, which was now warm. "Why else would it be so difficult for you to make an accurate prediction?" The mocking tone in Pomona's question went unnoticed only by Sybil, and Poppy found herself biting the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing while Xiomara chuckled outright.

"Exactly," Sybil agreed, looking triumphant. "Severus, would you like for me to read your palm?" The question caught the potions professor off guard, but he quickly shook his head and muttered something about "goats" and "cleanliness." Minerva didn't think it possible for her younger colleague to be so relieved that he had been carrying a goat only minutes ago.

"For example," Minerva continued, ignoring Severus' germophobia, "Didn't you predict another fall down the North Tower stairwell last week?"

"Why yes, I did," Sybil said, her hesitation proof enough that she had pulled that prediction, as well as most others, out of thin air. "Why, did someone fall?" The hopeful tone in her voice seemed completely out of touch with the question at hand, but Minerva took it in stride and simply shook her head.

Poppy leaned over and whispered in Minerva's ear. "One of these days she's going to follow her prediction just to increase her credibility." Minerva let out a bark of laughter that reminded Poppy of Sirius Black, and for a moment, the older witch felt her blood freeze in her veins. She hadn't thought about her favorite student in quite some time. The day after he had been convicted of the murder of his best friends as well as thirteen innocent people, Poppy had put away the picture he had sent her and Minerva from France and tried to forget the name Sirius Black. It hadn't been a very successful attempt, as he seemed to be as much a part of Hogwarts as Peeves, but she had loved that boy like a mother would a son, and his betrayal had been especially difficult for her to swallow.

"Anyway!" Minerva said, feeling her lover tense and not knowing why. "Does anyone know if Miss Brand will be trying out for the Harpies next month?" The question was directed at Xiomara, even though it was open to the entire table. The flying instructor shook her head, but as she was about to reply in the negative, Irma, who had just arrived, cut into the conversation quite abruptly.

Irma Pince had never been very good with things like social etiquette. So when she had caught Gwenog Jones and Amelia Brand passionately kissing behind the Shrieking Shack last November, she had quickly reported the incident to Minerva, who had simply laughed. "Aren't you going to report them for unseemly and immoral behavior?" Irma had asked, visibly shaking even ten minutes after the encounter. "I mean, what they were doing is a sin."

The moment that word left Irma's mouth, Minerva stopped trying to fight the impulse to hit the younger woman and allowed her hand to make contact with Irma's left cheek full force. Irma had been raised as a Muggle, due to the fact that she was the daughter of two squibs, and so Minerva understood that faith was an important part of the librarian's life. However, she had been kicked out of her home because her mother believed loving Poppy was a sin, and there was no way Minerva was about to allow that to happen to another happy couple.

"Try-outs start in two weeks," Irma stated, as if it were mathematical statistics she were talking about instead of the application process of a girl's entire future. "Miss Brand has a seventy percent chance of making it." Although Irma knew very little about Quidditch, Minerva did not doubt her mathematical prowess at all.

"Thank you," the Scottish woman replied, summoning more Firewhiskey to refill her drink. "Albus, when are we required to get the Captain letters in?"

"Why, whenever your heart pleases, my dear," Albus replied, his eyes dancing with amusement at Irma's antics. Contrary to popular belief, Albus thought that Irma was strange only because she wanted to be. Minerva figured it was some sort of defense mechanism.

"I was thinking about Charlie Weasley," Minerva confided to Poppy and Xiomara, the two women sitting closest to her. "What do you think?"

"I think you're gonna have a bloody bitch of a time trying to win against Hufflepuff," Poppy answer, not bother to let Xiomara speak. "Are you sure they can ignore their relationship while they play each other on the pitch?"

"Poppy, we've seen people on different sides of a war stay committed to one another, why should they be any different?" Minerva asked, genuinely curious.

"Because they haven't seen it," Sinistra added, taking a long sip of her Manitcorini. Her voice was deep like the night and musical like a lullaby. Minerva smiled at her in a way that could have broken someone's heart, as everyone at the table fell silent to remember the wars they had all lived through.

"Here's to the killing stopping with this generation," Xiomara stated, holding her drink up for a toast. Everyone around the table, from Albus to Filch, and Pomona to Severus, raised his or her glass in accord. They all smiled at each other in a way that mixed sympathy and empathy with comfort, and in that moment they strengthened the bond that teaching together over the years had formed.

:::

Around five o' clock, the door opened for the first patron of the night that didn't teach a subject at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Two young blondes walked in, one looking about eight and one looking about eighteen, and Aberforth quickly rose from the dinner feast to attend to them. It wasn't until he was close enough to smell the older one's perfume that he recognized the guests as Ellabeth Yaxley Lovegood and her daughter Luna, both good friends of his granddaughter.

"KJ, Ella's here," Aberforth hollered upstairs. Little Luna smiled at the old man as he allowed her to run her fingers through his beard. Even at the age of eight, the child seemed unusually obsessed with the rugged thickness of his gray facial hair.

"Actually, Mr. Dumbledore, we're here to talk to Professor Dumbledore." While Minerva smiled at the double use of the name, Ellabeth seemed completely unaware that she had said something strange. While the young woman had been a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, Minerva had found her almost impossible to teach. It was nothing short of a miracle that the young woman graduated with an "O" on her Transfiguration NEWT. The fact that she then became involved in experimental magic was something neither Minerva, nor anyone else at the school besides maybe Albus, had been able to comprehend.

"Mrs. Lovegood," Albus greeted, forever grateful for the moments in which he got to show up his brother while Aberforth was there to witness it. "What a lovely surprise! And to what do we owe this honor?"

"Luna and I were shopping in the Apothecary, sir," Ellabeth began, all but floating towards the head of the staff table, "when it occurred to me that today is exactly ninety years since the death of your sister, Ariana. I wanted Luna to meet the man whose sister she was named for. "

The first thing to break was Minerva's whiskey glass, which shattered in her hand. Poppy looked at the blood as it stained the glass digging in to her lover's hands, but neither woman moved or cried out in pain. The next thing to break was the mirror hanging over the sink behind the bar, which Aberforth punched upon hearing his sister's name. The last thing to break was the chair in which Hagrid was sitting, which fell to the ground as he slammed back down onto it after leaning against the wall.

"What right do you have to come in here and say her name?" Aberforth bellowed, his voice reverberating off the high ceilings of the quiet pub. "How dare you name your daughter after my sister? Albus, did you know about this?"

"Calm down, brother," Albus replied, rising to allow Ellabeth to sit. "Mrs. Lovegood was terrified that her daughter would be born a squib, due to the exposure to unstable potions ingredients during her pregnancy. So I told her about Ariana, and how our beloved sister survived even the most difficult of life's abuses in order to become a spirited young woman." The slight tremor in Dumbledore's voice was one no one had heard before.

"A spirited young woman that you killed!" Aberforth proclaimed. The accusation hung in the room, like a blade about to drop upon a bare neck. Minerva met Albus' eyes, and for a moment, she almost thought she saw tears.

"I did not kill her, Abe," Albus replied, his voice so soft it could have been mistaken for the absent-minded stirring Sinistra was doing with her finger in her glass. "I did not." He sank down upon one of the stools, and everyone looked on at the two brothers, unsure as to how to proceed. Without hesitation, the young girl, Luna, made her way over to both Dumbledores and grabbed their hands.

"You shouldn't fight," she stated, her voice calm and deep in its lack of expression, "You love each other." She then placed Aberforth's hand on top of his brother's, and the two old men found themselves looking at each other with love and sheepishness.

"She's right," Albus stated, looking his brother in the eye for the first time in over ninety years. "We do love each other."

Aberforth lowered his gaze and said, "Well, at the very least we shouldn't fight."

Albus chuckled, and the crowd released the breath they were collectively holding. "That's a start." The two brothers shook hands, and then said goodbye to the Lovegood girls, as Ellabeth realized she had said the wrong thing, and refused to stay for drinks even after the fifth invitation.

:::

The Annual Hogwarts Staff End of Year Party ended seven hours later, as the crescent moon looked on from its resting place above the west tower. Minerva was the last to leave, stumbling out after Poppy while Aberforth waved goodbye. As he closed the door of the pub, he turned to the two women inside, who had already started the tedious process of cleaning up.

"You know, I'll never understand why they have that party," Aberforth confided in Kendra and Acantha. Both women looked up at the wizened man.

"Why?" Acantha asked, twirling a chair upside down and placing it down on the table.

"Because they never get anything accomplished. They spend most of their time talking about the sex lives of their students. And the most interesting part of the evening is when my brother and I get in to a fight." He locked the door with his wand and moved to the sink to begin the dishes.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe you don't like the rest because you're not a teacher?" Kendra asked, gathering the last of the used utensils and levitating them over to the counter.

"No," Aberforth replied, leaving no room for arguments. "All I'm saying is, my older brother needs to learn how to get things done."

"Grandpa Abe," Acantha began, slightly exasperated, "he's on the Wizegmont. He's the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He defeated Grindelwald and helped defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You really don't think he can get things done?"

Aberforth looked at her for a moment, as if he were about to concede the point and then shook his head. "Well he must be doing something wrong, his kids are always shaggin' behind his back in that castle. The two of you know better than to do things like that when you're here." He seemed satisfied with that defense and turned back to washing his dishes, thus rendering himself completely oblivious to the smile shared between the two women in the room and the fact that his brother may not have been as inefficient as his pride made him think.


End file.
